


I'll Pay the Bill You Taste The Wine

by ckywalker



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Blow Jobs, But a lil bit of fluff, Dining at the Ritz, Exhibitionism, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, crowley blows zira under the table that's it fam, more food kink than i intended, shrug emoji, trying new things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 05:02:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19288693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ckywalker/pseuds/ckywalker
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley enjoy dessert at the Ritz.





	I'll Pay the Bill You Taste The Wine

**Author's Note:**

> This is my return to fic writing after a few years on hiatus. Just here to have fun, so I might end up writing some other stuff, who knows? Hope you enjoy. Kudos and comments always appreciated! 
> 
> Also I'm an American but I tried to throw some British terms in here. So the final result is probably a very bastardized English nightmare.

They sat at their usual at the Ritz, just enough wine in the second bottle to pour each of them a hearty final glass, which they had taken care of right before their server arrived to clear the entrée plates. 

“Would sirs be interested in any dessert this evening?” he asked. 

“Very interested,” Aziraphale responded, with as much heartfelt enthusiasm as if the server had offered him an original bootleg Bulgakov manuscript. “I’ll have the white chocolate and coconut mousseline.” 

“Excellent choice, sir.” The server turned expectantly to Crowley, who had not so much as acknowledged him since he came to clear the plates; his gaze had not left Aziraphale since before the first course. 

“Nothing for me, thanks. Can’t get the kind of dessert I’m looking for on any menu here.” 

The server gave him a curt nod with the knowing, tactful, and yet forced smile of any service worker whose wages depend on pretending to enjoy the presence and jokes of someone with far more money than they have. He left promptly. 

“Now that was uncalled for,” Aziraphale told his date with his signature British disapproval. 

“Oh please. You think he doesn’t know what people get up to when they’re done here? There’s a bloody hotel just outside the doors in case they can’t wait to get home. Nothing like a good Bollinger vintage to get you in the mood.” Crowley, of course, over exaggerated the name “Bollinger” with a ridiculous French accent. 

Aziraphale shot him a judgmental glare, both for Crowley’s pronunciation and lack of discernment. “Well, you’ll just have to wait until we get home.” 

“Don’t wanna.” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “You’re incorrigible.” 

“What would you say if I took you right here and now?” Crowley asked with the same devil-may-care attitude he used when talking about, say, his regard for traffic safety. Aziraphale sputtered, at a loss for words, but Crowley kept going. “I could sneak under the table and suck you off and nobody would be any the wiser. And if they were, well… nothing a little miraculous amnesia couldn’t solve.” 

Aziraphale’s face went through a journey much like a fine wine develops over the palate—shock-forward, with heavy notes of incredulity and condemnation, lighter tones of consideration, and finally a finish of interest—only fitting really, considering that he flushed from every shade between white zinfandel to burgundy. Sure, Crowley had his occasional games and teasing but this… this took more of a wild step beyond anything he’d suggested before. 

“I’ll need an answer soon, Angel. Your dessert will be here any moment. Shall I have mine, too?” 

Aziraphale had reached a decision, and once he reached a decision, no force on Earth or beyond could convince him otherwise. “Be discreet,” he ordered Crowley, keeping his voice as low as possible while remaining stern. “And no tricks.” 

Crowley gave him a sly, lopsided grin. “Is that a yes?” 

“Yes!” Aziraphale nodded curtly, fiercely determined yet still burning with a certain level of indignation. 

Crowley grinned unabashedly as he slid out of his chair and on to the floor. Aziraphale looked around nervously, but none of the other diners had seemed to take notice of his boyfriend’s disappearance. The floor-length tablecloths, he decided, would prove themselves either a blessing or a curse. 

The nature of the situation only amplified his anticipation to levels previously unknown. The risk of getting caught, and the thrill of that risk, he had to admit to himself, made him acutely aware of everything going on around him. And worst of all, Crowley hadn’t even done anything yet. Aziraphale could feel his presence between his legs, but he just sat there, biding his time only to build the tension. 

Then he began to move. 

Crowley first grabbed onto Aziraphale’s thighs, urging them apart. Aziraphale tried his damnedest not to react above the waist, although below the waist he had clearly taken interest. Crowley ran his hands along his legs, caressingly, possessively, determinedly. Aziraphale wanted to sink into the warmth of that now-familiar touch, but kept his composure, even as Crowley began palming his growing erection over his trousers. 

He popped the button and drew out Aziraphale’s cock from his shorts, stroking him gently to full hardness. Above him, Aziraphale shifted in his seat, wanting to lean in, to grab Crowley’s hair or murmur sweet nothings for his ears only. Crowley set an achingly slow pace already; when Aziraphale had told him no tricks, he’d meant exactly this. 

Crowley placed soft kisses along his length, taking his sweet time. When Aziraphale caught sight of the server returning with his mousseline, it pleased him so much that almost, almost forgot about the man under the table playing with his dick. Crowley could swear that the cock in his hand twitched with interest as the server set down the plate and figured he’d reached the perfect point to go all in. He opened up and swallowed Aziraphale all the way, causing his whole body to jolt, his knees hitting the table. 

“Is everything alright, sir?” asked the server. 

Aziraphale physically shook off his surprise. “Erm, yes. Quite. Thank you.” He desperately hoped that nobody else felt the room getting warmer and stuffier. You never know what kind of accidents can happen to the weather (or in this case, the thermostat) when an ethereal being forgets himself. 

Crowley, meanwhile, had slowed down again after diving in to the main event. He bobbed on his boyfriend’s cock at a languid speed, corkscrewing his head back and forth ever so slightly. Aziraphale took the first bite of his dessert, and the scrumptiousness of it allowed him to final hum a self-contained, satisfied moan. His eyes closed with pleasure. He started to make a list in his head of foods to enjoy while Crowley blew him, quickly jumping to all sorts of debauched ideas involving food and fornication. As he ate more and sank deeper into the feeling, it shocked him that Crowley had come up with this idea first. But then again, Crowley knew him so well that he thought of all sorts of things that Aziraphale would never imagine on his own. He quickly realized that Crowley had almost certainly suggested this for that reason. Crowley took his pleasure in pleasuring the person he loved the most. 

Under the table, Crowley set about doing just that. He sped up, lavishing every bit of Aziraphale he could get into his mouth. He wanted to finish off Aziraphale before he finished his mousseline so that he could watch him take the last bite all flustered and satisfied. Aziraphale’s legs began shaking as he struggled not to show any kind of reaction. So far, none of the other diners or servers had paid him any suspicious looks, as far as he could tell. When Crowley did something particularly crafty with his tongue, he gasped sharply and couldn’t stop his hips from jolting into that mouth, just a bit. From his slipping composure, Crowley knew that they had entered the home stretch. He grabbed onto Aziraphale’s upper thighs to brace himself and sucked for all his worth. 

Aziraphale sharply bit his fist and it took everything he had not to burst into an ode of moans and curses. He hadn’t seen Crowley drive his Bentley through a flaming motorway, but he just knew that the effort must have taken the same kind of mad drive and determination that Crowley now poured into getting him as close to coming as possible. As that determination kept going he felt himself get closer and closer, hotter and hotter until it all finally seized up inside him with a white flash and poured into Crowley’s waiting mouth. 

Breathing deeply and coming down from his orgasm, Aziraphale hadn’t even noticed Crowley get out from under the table. But when he came to again, he could feel that he had left. But Aziraphale didn’t see him in his seat, either. Instead, Crowley came sauntering towards him from the direction of the loo. Cheeky devil. 

“Sorry, love,” Crowley gave Aziraphale a quick and sloppy kiss on the cheek before taking his seat. “Popped myself out in case anyone was watching. Figured this way if they see me coming back they’d figure there was no way I was here to take care of any dirty business.” 

Aziraphale chided him with his eyes, still regaining his composure. 

Crowley leaned back in his chair and spread his legs impossibly wide given the restraints of the armrests. “Anyway, how’s your dessert? Mine was divine. We should do this again sometime.” He noticed the still-unfinished mousseline on Aziraphale’s plate. “Are you going to finish that?” He helped himself to the dessert spoon and scooped out a bite, holding it in front of Aziraphale’s face. He reached out with his other hand to gently hold up his date’s jaw, aligning his mouth with the spoon. Aziraphale gave in without complaint and let Crowley feed him. The second-best thing, he decided, to feeding himself while Crowley sucked him off. 

“My dear boy,” he sighed between bites. “Just you wait until we get home.”

**Author's Note:**

> White chocolate and coconut mousseline is a real item from the menu! Not that I would know from experience--it's all online.


End file.
